


can't rain on my parade

by Engineer104



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Honeymoon, Married Fluff, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Suggestive Themes, little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23197027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: It's raining in Derdriu, but that doesn't mean Annette and Felix can't enjoy their honeymoon.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	can't rain on my parade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseisaRoseisaRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseisaRoseisaRose/gifts).



> Just a itty bitty drabble of fluff (for these trying times) to give my brain a break from my longer WIPs. Also...kinda sorta a drabble exchange with [RoseIsARoseIsARose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseisaRoseisaRose/pseuds/RoseisaRoseisaRose). kinda

Annette remembers Derdriu’s harbor, remembers the gentle rippling of the sea and the surface glittering with sunlight. She remembers fishwives hawking their wares (and Flayn eagerly flitting from stand to stand with a beleaguered Seteth shadowing her) and ships with their sails fluttering in the breeze as sailors anchored them at docks. How quickly the Aquatic Capital returned to life after the battle that sent its residents deep into their homes and the Alliance Leader himself ready to cut his losses and flee…how different it looks now in peacetime.

To be fair, it probably looks…closer to what Annette remembers, usually. Now the waves churn, gray as iron and tipped with white foam, and a steady rain beats against the wooden planks of the docks and the decks of ships.

She shivers and huddles closer to Felix, who observes, “At least it’s not as dreary as Fhirdiad.”

Annette giggles. “Or we brought the bad weather with us.” She hooks her arm through his and drags him away from the docks. “So much for that tour of the harbor. I know how much you were looking forward to it.”

Felix frowns - he was very much _not_ looking forward to it and made no secret of that - as they walk along a bridge. A child casts a fishing rod from the bridge, half-leaning over. “We don’t have to cut our trip short just because of the rain,” he tells her. “We can visit that bakery near the inn.”

Annette leans into him; he’s far warmer than the rain, and though he has a…point, she wouldn’t mind returning to the inn early. With a giddy smile tugging at her lips - because Sothis knows she won’t let a storm ruin her fun! - she pokes his cheek. When he glances down at her, she surges up on her toes and kisses his chin.

His cheeks color, but he tears his eyes away from her and grumbles, “Annette…”

A laugh bursts out of her, his reaction utterly expected but no less delightful. The warmth in her chest wards against the bite in the air. “What’s wrong, Felix? You’re looking awfully red…has the cold gotten to you?”

“Of course not!” he denies, rolling his eyes. “I grew up in northern Faerghus; this is nothing.”

“Wow, so impressive!” Annette bats her eyelashes at him. She slips her hand down along his arm to press her bare palm against his. “I’m rather cold, though.”

Felix’s eyes widen. “Are you?” He pulls away from her, and Annette bemoans the lack of heat even as he starts tugging off his jacket.

She covers his hands, freezing him, and makes sure she meets his gaze. “That’s very kind of you, Felix, but I’d prefer you warm me up instead.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Felix wonders. He raises an eyebrow at her, but when Annette’s hands travel up his chest to fist in his shirt collar his jaw drops.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, as if he’s trying to collect himself. Annette’s eyes track the motion, a different sort of heat from before filling her. “Oh,” he says. “In the middle of the day?”

“We don’t really have anywhere to be,” she reminds him. “This is our honeymoon, so the actual honey from the bakery can wait.”

“You? Wait for pastries?” Felix snorts. She scowls at him, but her face softens when he disentangles her hands from his shirt and laces their fingers together. “Fine,” he says. His eyes are intent on her, enough heat rises to her cheeks, and he promises, “I’ll listen to you sing for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about felannie on Twitter or something: @gazelle_gazette


End file.
